STAR DESTROYER ARGO - A Story Wars Story
by Emerald Sonata
Summary: (Pulp Fiction) The Death Star II has been destroyed. The Emperor is Dead. With the Imperial Navy in complete decimation, what was once a battle of supremacy has turned into a struggle of survival. The Star Destroyer Argo has escape from the Battle of Endor, but is badly wounded. Realizing they've been fighting a losing battle, the crew of the Argo only wants to return home.
1. TOTAL RETREAT

...

 **#: ARGO :#**  
 _ **(A Star Wars Story)**_

 **Report 1  
** _\- Retreat -_

* * *

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 _ **Commander's Log, Emergency Record.**_

 _The Death Star has been destroyed. The entire Imperial Fleet over Endor is being decimated by the Rebel Fleet. We've lost contact and sighting with the Emperor's Flag Ship. The Rear and Vice Admiral are giving no response. Only 15 Star Destroyers left. Scratch that, 13, the_ Designation _and the_ Reclaimer _are gone. Only the_ Argo _and a handful of Star Destroyer are left. We want to run, but our Captain is too stubborn to face defeat._

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* * *

"What are you all waiting for!? Bring forward batteries to bear! I want that Nebulon cruiser dead this instant!"

"Sir! Our entire formation has fallen, we need to retreat and—"

"Shut up Mr. Couver, I **am** the Captain and we stand and fight! FOR THE EMPIRE!"

Commander Van Couver didn't want this. He didn't save up his money to join the Imperial Academy to become vaporized. He didn't work hard in following one seasoned captain after another to learn the Order of Battle and the Chain of Command when the Empire displayed its might across the galaxy, only to be forgotten in a pitiful battle.

And he most certainly didn't want to die because of how stupid the captain of the ship was. Everyone in the bridge knew, this was the end. The Empire had been destroyed. If the Battle of Yavin was enough to give most of the soldiers and officer a wake up call, the sight of an exploding moon was enough to nail the conclusion into the coffin. Van Couver knew, this fight was no longer about pride or supremacy. It had to be survival now. So, the Commander was torn when he watched the Captain of the Ship yelling orders after orders to have the whole Imperial-II Class Star Destroyer face off against five Rebel starships at once. A myriad of trembling voices filled the bridge with a Blitzkrieg of information.

"C-Captain. R-rear shields have been disabled!"

"Hull damage appearing all over Deck 7, 8, and 9. Hangar bay is on fire."

"Lost contact with TIE Squadron W and G. We don't have enough starfighters left to defend us!"

"Bollocks, I ordered for all turbolasers to focus fire on the Nebulon Cruiser! I don't need to hear garbage squawking like mynoks with their heads lobbed off! Rubbish all of you!"

Van Couver flinched at his Captain's words. Everyone was scared. Their voices shaking, their hands cold, and their eyes blood shot from the adrenaline. Even in a chaotic moment like this, everyone was doing exceptionally well at their stations. That was what the Commander believed in. Yet their 'trusted' Captain didn't see something so small. To him, it was completely insignificant. And it wasn't just because he was glaring at five different Rebel Starships that were marching up to their Star Destroyer.

"C-Captain. Target's engines have been disable. The cruiser is left drifting while the others are protecting it. Should we pull back to—"

"I said Shut Up, Mr. Couver. I wanted that ship destroyed, not crippled. Hammer it with everything we got. Load proton torpedoes in the hatch!"

"Sir! We've already wasted the last volley on the Corellian Corvette and Hammerhead! Our energy levels are running low, our shields are failing, we have to pull out now!"

"We will not abandon his Imperial Majesty! Not in this critical moment! Push on and grasp victory for the Empire!"

 **"SIR! THE EMPEROR IS DEAD!"**

The entire crew was afraid. Being surrounded by multiple starships and feeling their bodies rattled from the recoil of enemy fire, just sitting in their seats made them uncomfortable. The only thing they could do, was just work, work, work, work, work... until their brains were blank and numb. The horror around them is too much...But yet they ended up stopping when they heard the Second-In-Command yell like that. They ended up dropping everything, and forced their eyes to look up. Everyone ended up staring at Commander Van Couver, the one who declared the fate of the Emperor they served. Those words smashed their fears, and filled them with dreaded realization that they have been avoiding all this time.

"O-our Ultimate Battle Station has been destroyed. Th-the Emperor was on that very station along with countless of other Imperial soldiers!"

"...Mr. Couver."

"Th-there is nothing left for us! The Admiral's ship has sunk, the _Executor_ has crashed, a-and everyone in the highest of command have either jumped ship or surrendered to the Rebels!"

"... Mr. Couver, if you please."

"Dying here won't help us, Sir! We have to escape and regroup with the survivors... Or else there won't be any Imperial Ships left to even take revenge against them! With all due respect, why can't you open your eyes and—"

Something cold touched Van Couver's eye. He was tense while he was saying those words, so it made it easier to express his true feelings by closing them shut. At least, he didn't have to stare at his stubborn captain's face to tell him the face-value-truth. At the same time, it left the Commander vulnerable to any surprises. A bad mistake.

"...S...Sir, wh-what are you doing?"

"I told you to shut up, did I not, Mr. Couver?"

The barrel of a hand blaster was poking into Van Couver's one eye. It was cold, so it stuck his eye lid as if branding him like a Vesperian Cowbull. At first, his brain couldn't understand. A heartbeat after... or rather, realizing he missed a heartbeat, the situation became clear.

"Commander Van Couver. You are hereby under charged for dereliction of duty, failure to fulfill your sworn duty as an officer of the navy, death threats to our grand Emperor, and ultimately treason to our entire Galactic Order. Your sentence is clear: immediate execution. May the Emperor have mercy on your soul."

"S-SITHSPIT!"

Van Couver knew what a soldier meant, especially to the Galactic Empire. He had sworn an oath where he was willing to sacrifice his life in order to preserve, protect, and advance the will of the Empire and the Imperial Navy. He had no qualm if this was the battlefield... But this conclusion is not what he truly wanted.

"KRIFF YOU!"

In the last minute, the young man's body reacted on its own. It threw down his cold hand to his hip and drew up his last defensive resort. His own Blaster Pistol. In this dire situation, he was willing to forget all of the starfleet regulations, and just turn his fangs on those he served... It was unfortunate that the Captain already had a head start.

 ** _*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!*_**

What went off first, was neither the Captain nor the Commander's pistol firing at point blank range.

It was certain crippled Nebulon Cruiser smashing into the side of Star Destroyer _Argo_.


	2. ACKBAR SLASH

...

 **#: ARGO :#**  
 _ **(A Star Wars Story)**_

 **Report 2  
** _\- Slash -_

* * *

#########################

 _ **Bridge Lieutenant Log, Damage Report.**_

 _The_ Argo _has suffered significant damage from the last attack run made by several Hammerhead ships and volley of Rebel Cruiser fire. Hull integration is down to 55% and declining. Shields are losing power, no time to recharge and there's too many cannon fire to deflect them. Rediverting all energy to engines, but our turbolaser effectiveness won't hold off the X-Wings and A-Wings that are buzzing the decks. At this rate, the_ Argo _will—HOLY SH*T!_

#########################

* * *

"ALL HANDS! BRACE FOR IMPACT! BRACE FOR IMPACT!"

Lieutenant Wilhelm Hiss had no right to say those words. He was not in position to carry out sub-orders without the directive of the Captain, who passes the order to the Commander, who eventually hands the call to the Lieutenant. Even though they were standing only 2 feet apart from each other on the same deck, this was a tradition that they had to carry out.

It was stupid, but you never question the intelligence of the Galactic Empire. The last time a student from the Imperial Academy questioned this nonsensical chain of command - he disappeared, all of his courses dropped and his record wiped clean. It was like he never existed.

Wilhelm Hiss didn't want to end up like that person who was in the same graduating class as himself. But in desperate times call for desperate measures. He decided to warn everyone without the approval of the Captain or his Second in Command.

...Also, there was this fine print about all officers of a certain rank were able to act independently should the Captain of the Ship or the Second Mate prove unable to make those critical decisions. Seeing how they were going to shoot each other in the last minute, the Lieutenant took over.

And braced hard against his computer console.

 ***CRASH!* *CREAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK!***

"NUWOOOOOOH!?"

The Star Destroy _Argo_ received a blow to the port side of her face. A Nebulon Cruiser had lost power to its engines and ended up running straight into the opposing ship on inertia alone. With the cruiser out out of propulsion, there was no way for it to pull back in reverse and fly away. So it continued to just drift 'into' the _Argo_ , forcing the entire Imperial ship to tilt to the Starboard in an awkward manner.

It was like two drunkards trying to throw fists at each other. One of them got a lucky hit, but they ended up tumbling over onto the ground.

"Port side of the ship suffered significant damage to the hull. We just lost Lost 20 turbolasers!"

"Deck 2, 3, and 6 are on fire. There's report of a breach in the hull. Everyone is being evacuated and are sealing off the modules!"

"Engineering report of engine failure to the fusion boilers, we're losing power to our ship thrusters! Wh-what do we do Li-Lieutenant?"

"Uh. Uh. I-increase pr-pressure into the breaches, prevent any more of our oxygen from escaping the holes in the _Argo_. Dispatch damage control to put out the fires and send a repair team to fix those guns. We can't turn port until we get the Nebulon off us, so keep trying for a work around!"

The Lieutenant gave the order. Once more, he breached the chain of command and violated Imperial protocol. But ever since the collision that rocked the ship, he couldn't see the Captain nor Commander Van Couver anywhere. He didn't feel comfortable taking control over the ship, but whenever he looked back to exchange glances with the young men and woman serving on the _Argo_... he couldn't let them down.

"G-get a TIE Fighter Squadron to defend us from X-Wing attacks. The ship can't afford being hit by a Y-Wing bombing run. Use whatever turrets and cannons we have left to protect our port, until we can swerve around and—UWOOH!"

The Imperial ship rocked once more. This time it forced the entire Star Destroyer to go into a slant tilt. Everyone on deck felt like the world gave out under their feet, or the stairs flattening down to transform into a slide. Some officers lost their footing and slipping, hitting their bodies and heads across diagnostic servers. The others were able to grab onto something in time. Fortunately, the tilt wasn't any more than below a 25 degree dip, so everyone was working on a tilting stage. Trying to assess the situation outside, the Lieutenant looked out of the view port.

The EF76 Nebulon-B cruiser was a 300 meter class escort frigate, that had a crew of 850 and could hold and additional 700 passengers in total. It was a large ship compared to an AA9 Coruscant Freighter, and heavily loaded with ship-to-ship guns and naval class proton torpedoes and Fusor missile launchers. Although it was capable of carrying only a single small squadron of star numbers, if the formation were made out of Y-Wing bombers or the Rebel Alliance's new fast-attack A-Wings, then it would deal serious damage.

The Argo was larger, an Imperial-II class ship standing about 1600 meters in length with over 60 medium and long-range turbolasers bristling the outer decks. Instead of the large Ion Cannons that flanked the sides, it was replaced with an array of three 46 inch laser naval guns on both port and starboard. It was designed to fight medium to heavy weight starships, and it would have some trouble in fighting off a Mon Calamari Cruiser, but it was still capable of long-term naval combat.

However, the Battle of Endor had overwhelmed the Imperial Navy stationed over the planet. They first had total advantage of amassing their entire fleet to greet the Rebel Navy. It was a sure win, even Wilhelm Hiss thought it was a fight that won't last long than three hours.

Until their flagship the Super Star Destroyer _Executor_ had it's bridge smashed through with a stray A-Wing, and it ended up plummeting into the side of the unfinished Death Star. Then the Second Death Star Exploding... the whole Imperial Navy was in shambles, they were no more than kids being kicked about by a bunch of bullies.

Given the damages it took while trying to turn the failing tides, it was no surprise the Argo could barely stand when the body of the Nebulon tackled it in space. A weary fighter at his limit in the boxing ring.

"Come on, stay strong Argo... H-Harry! Qu-quick, turn the ship around! I can already hear the creaking in her hull! If the Nebulon continues to fall on it with its inertia, we'll split in two. I don't want to re-enact the incident at the Battle of Scarif!"

"Tch. Don't ever underestimate the Argo. She's a tough girl, this is nothing but a scratch. We'll just have to show them who is the real Queen in a game of wrestling! Reversing polarity of starboard engine, increasing thrust from port ion turbines. Rotating ship at full 180 degrees! Brace! Brace!"

Wilhelm Hiss looked at the Helmsmen of the Star Destroyer. A young man with ruffed up blonde hair that was not because of style. The Officer watched as the Helmsmen moved his wrist across a holographic console in adjusting the configurations of the ship's forward rotation and angle. Almost like that of a piano prodigy.

"Y-yes, that's it! Keep turning, hull Damage is decreasing by 20 percent. 15 percent. 10 percent."

"See what did I told you? There's a reason why the Navy wanted me to drive this beauty. We're a match made in heav—Oh f**k."

"Wh-what? Why did you stop turning, we don't even have a clear...Oh no."

Mon Calamari Cruisers. There were about seven of them, each a different make and model. MC80, MC90, frigate subtype, assault carriers. They formed a short blockade in front of several smaller Imperial vessels that were attempting to flee. Wilhelm Hiss's jaw dropped when they pinned down one Star Destroyer that was already bristling with fire and smoke. It only took one coordinated punch to the battered ship's bridge for the whole thing to get swallowed in a gust of inferno. By the time the Argo felt the shockwave, the Lieutenant could hear multiple voices from the bridge crew going up at once.

"Sir, the Rebel Ships are forming a line in front of our hyperspace access point. W-we can't jump without getting caught in their crossfire."

"They're hailing us. They're ordering us to turn off all power to the ship's engine and surrender, or they will sink us."

"Y-Wings detected launching from their fighter bay. Schematics show they're loaded with ion torpedoes. They'll stun us."

Wilhelm Hiss heard everyone, yelling and calling out information that were necessary in making a quick and decisive choice. Without a Captain to make that choice, the burden of command fell on the young Lieutenant's shoulders. He felt his bone cracking already.

"...,...,...,...,...,... I...it's over...huh-huh...Th-the Empire is finished. Wh-what do we do?"

"... Cough Cough! C-charge them."

"C-Captain? I-is that you?"

Wilhelm Hiss turned to the faint voice. He couldn't tell where it was coming from? The hole in the ceiling, the dent in the floor, or was it the pile of broken ceiling panels and floor wiring... His suspicious were confirmed when a small hand ripped through the panels and the wiring to pull out a mangled body.

"C-Capt...Holy sh*t! Commander, you're alive!"

"I-I think so. Cough cough. I-I can't tell if I cracked a rib or just hit myself too hard."

The young officer quickly helped to haul out the body that was stuck under the debris. By the time the body was clear, Commander Van Couver staggered to his feet while clutching his chest to check on his heart rate.

"W-wait. What about the captain?"

"He's out cold and injured. We don't have time for him right now, we have to escape before the Rebel capture us."

Wilhelm Hiss watched as Van Couver approached the crew on the bridge deck of the Argo. Many of them were standing below the main deck, in pits where multiple computer and holographic consoles were glowing in front of them. The rest were managing navigational systems, communication, and keeping track of their fighter support.

The Lieutenant couldn't resist swallowing his dry throat, when the Commander came up with an idea.

"We're going to charge them. We'll use a technique the Rebel have been using to get past our blockades."

"T-technique sir? L-like what?"

"I think the Rebels call it the Ackbar Slash. We'll get a group of Star Destroyers that are still active, form a penetrating line, and drive at full speed through the Rebels."

"...Wait. Si-sir wouldn't we be open targets for them to shoot us down. We just lost the _Dominator_. W-we'll turn into space dust next."

"Yes, but not if we get right in between their ships. Like how they cut through our defensive lines, we won't be confident in shooting at them without chance of dealing friendly fire to our neighboring ships."

"... Oh. You mean to say... Sir?"

"They've gotten away with hitting us hard with that move. It's time we return the favor. Call upon whatever Star Destroyer that's still out there to help us. We have to work together if we have to escape!"

"...Aye Captain! You heard him Harry, all ahead flank! Someone hail the _Montague_ , the _Capulet_ , _Delilah_ , anyone. Set ourselves in a line formation. All hands, prepare for full on combat!"

The Star Destroy _Argo_ flicked off the pest called a Nebulon Carrier from it's side. The Argo's main 46 cm powered cannons snapped the pencil-like neck of the Rebel ship, causing it to implode from the inside out and explode with flying debris. Now free, the ship could be see barreling down the galactic runway, heading at full propulsion. It's destination was the blockage of Mon Calamari Cruisers that were keeping anyone from getting access to a key hyperdrive route.

"C-Commander, they're here. Star Destroyer _Waterloo_ , _Gettysburg_ , and _Titan_ are with us! We're forming a naval line right now."

"Steady... steady."

The Argo soon fell into line with several other Imperial warships that were in support of this plane. One was an Interdictor Class starship that volunteered to take point as it still had over 90% armor and shields to act as cover. Second in line was an Imperial-I ship with fire crawling all over the outer decks and a missing deflector shield bulb. Third was the Argo in serious condition and complete loss of their port side guns. Right behind them was the 900 meter Victory Class Star Destroyer.

Only four ships in the surviving fleet had been daft enough to pull this off. The others have either surrendered to the Rebel ships, scuttled their vessel in the name of the Emperor, or were shot down trying to escape. Given the odds of the situation, this was a gamble everyone was will to take. At least in the very end, they tried.

"Approaching Rebel blockade at high speed. 10 minutes to reaching their front lines. They're hailing us to stop all engines or they'll sink us."

"Give them our response, Mr. Hiss. _'Nay Rebel Scums, Sincerely the Argo'_."

The four Imperial starships reached about 1000 meters from the line. Already the group of Mon Calamari cruisers were pelting them with red lasers all over. Thanks to the Interdictor-class Star Destroyer tanking the brunt of the attacks to its high-powered deflector shield, it reduced the damage the other ships behind it had to deal with. By the time they were 800 meters away from reaching the line, Wilhelm Hiss broke the tense silence on the bridge.

"I-incoming Y-Wings! Watch out!"

Then something happened to the first Star Destroyer. A buzz of Y-Wings flew towards the Interdictor, _Waterloo_ , avoiding turret fire as they launched projectiles all over the ship's hull. Blue spears of burning lightning. With one slap into the hull, the spear released a eerie pulse of blue light all over the outer decks. Any automated gun turrets suddenly stopped shooting. The deflector shields dropped completely and their engines flicked out of commission... It drifted.

"W-we're almost there, 600 meters. Hold the line a little longer, please!"

Without any power, the _Waterloo_ was left to flip out of the way, unable to move forward or backwards to avoid the barrage of cannon fire. And without their shields, it only took three decisive red volleys to crush their bridge and their engine core, to destroy the whole ship. ( _Waterloo_ \- sunk).

"C-Commander. We're losing the _Gettysburg_!"

"We have no choice. Stay on course!"

The second Imperial-I Star Destroy tried to break off from the charge. A bad move. A large Mon Calamari cruiser got a clean shot under its hulls and delivered a full broad side to shredding the frail ship into pieces ( _Gettysburg_ sunk).

"300 meters before we reached the line. Th-the Titan is still with us but suffering heavy casualties."

"Call the gunnery crew. On my mark, fire two full broadside on both the port and starboard side. Give the Rebels everything we've got and jump into hyperspace!"

"A-Aye sir!"

Only two Star Destroyers were left in the charge. One was a 1600 meter long _Argo_ and the other a 900 meter long _Titan_. Both of their ships were in critical condition. Another reckless attack on their bodies would mean the end of them... but neither of them slowed down. They pushed their engines and their reactor core to the maximum, increasing power to their shields, and relying on TIE Fighter escorts to cut down the chances of a Y-Wing Bomber getting to close.

100 meter... 50 meter... zero. The Star Destroyers slipped right in between two major set Mon Calamari Cruisers like a card in a deck.

"MR. HISS! LET THEM HAVE IT!"

"ALL GUNS, FIRE!"

The entire main guns of the _Argo_ ignited. They released their roars in sync and shot directly into the sides of the Mon Calamari cruisers in charge of the blockade. Every smaller and medium sized turrets light up across the _Argo's_ deck, shooting at whatever it could hit within its range.

The entire time, the enemy ships only fired a few shots into the _Argo_ and the _Titan_... it was like they were too scared to misfire over the Star Destroyer's bow and hit their ally in the crossfire. A signature tactic well used by Rebel cruisers.

"Mon Calamari frigate is losing shields! They're disengaging!"

"Assault cruiser and carrier are scrambling. They don't know where to hit us without attacking the others."

"C-Commander! Confirmed. Hyperspace access point is cleared. We can jump anytime."

"Tell the _Titan_ to plot course for the Bespin System, we'll shake off the Rebels and regroup! Jump - now!"

"Aye Commander. Harry, make the jump!"

Wilhelm Hiss braced himself. It was either the ship would safely be transported through the tunnel of hyperspace, or the enemy will shoot them down in the very last minute. He worried for the latter, even praying none of the Rebel ships were good shots.

In the end, his answer had came. With his heart leaping into his throat from a stray red laser cannon fire flashing across the bow, he could see the space outside beginning to distort into a blue hue. When the universe was swallowed up by a sapphire blur, the Lieutenant felt his strength give out completely as he dropped to his knees across the bridge deck.

Realizing he was still alive, he cried.


	3. GIANT'S ASHES

...

 **#: ARGO :#**  
 _ **(A Star Wars Story)**_

 **Report 3  
** _\- Ashes -_

* * *

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 ** _Commander's Log, Supplement._**

 _The Argo had survived, barely. We've followed the Emergency Fall Back protocol in case the Imperial Fleet were to fail at our mission at Endor. Honestly, no one ever expected to use it. We all thought we would be victorious like on Hoth. I would not be surprised if half of the fleet didn't remember the course number. We've abandoned the fight and the Rebel pursuers, but we don't have much time while the enemies are looking for us. Now, our top priority is to repair the ship, enough so we could make a second warp back to headquarters in Coruscant and await further instructions._

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* * *

"...Sith Spit."

"It's real bad Commander. Everything is badly damaged to the point of being barely online. Our life support system is failing too, but our engineering are working on it."

"I'm still going over the casualties. How many does engineering have?"

"One."

"Son of a..."

Commander Van Couver wanted to groan, or sigh. But right now, it was an inappropriate time. With a datapad in hand, he was quickly skimming over the list of both casualties and fatalities onboard the Star Destroyer _Argo_. It was enough to write a phonebook... make that two copies.

"...I know Commander. It's a disaster."

"Sssh. Not so loud, Wilhelm. We're already low on morale... let's not shoot down what little pride we have left with our own lips."

"Y-yes sir... but... are you sure with the numbers that are left, could we be still considered a crew? We're not even at the half count, 3500 out of the maximum 9500 crew members. Most of the chief officers and their units have boarded some of our Lamdas and abandonned the ship. The rest are either in critical condition, part of the fatality list, or MIA when our hull was breached into the vacuum... We don't even make up for a skeleton crew."

The Commander stared at his Lieutenant. The entire bridge they were in was a mess, panels hanging from the ceiling, electric cables leaping around like a wild dog on a leash, and both regular crew and medical personnel hauling wounded and corpses after another. The whole bridge lost multiple computer systems, and any officers who could still walk or had all of their thumbs and fingers were forced to share about two to three consoles to manage and maintain the digital components of the breaking ship. If this wasn't bad enough...

"...Co-Commander. He's—"

"Sssh. Wait until he passes us. No need to wake him as of yet."

Two medical officers from sickbay marched pass Van Couver and Wilhelm Hiss. One minute later, they were hauling a barely recognizable body from a pile of rubble, covered in burns and scars.

The Captain of the _Argo_ , the same man who tried to execute the Second in Command despite a war raging around their heads.

"I-is he alright? When he tried to shoot you, he didn't see the cruiser about to hit us."

"Oh he did shoot me, but the collision threw his aim off. We both slipped, and he ended up hitting his head on a console desk."

"..."

"No, Lieutenant. I didn't use a secret technique to subdue him."

"Oh. Thank goodness sir. Everyone would feel bitter if you had to be court-martialed and suspected of murdering the captain."

"...Were you even listening to me?"

Van Couver secretly let out a sigh. He needed it, but if he made it any louder or harder, then it would be disrespectful to the crew who were being hauled to an overloaded sickbay, working their *sses off in keeping the ship from collapsing, or the officers struggling to repair all diagnostic systems.

"Damage assessment?"

" _Argo's_ hull is at 38% capacity. If we get hit by another cannon fire or even rammed again, that would be it for her. As for our shields, it's completely out, once our engineer has finished fixing the life support system the Shield Generator is his next priority. Deck 1 - 3, 10 - 15 are reporting of fire and losing oxygen. All survivors in those areas have been evacuated and those blocks are sealed off."

"Personnel casualty?"

"Oh, not good sir. Many of our departments have lost personnel, they're working at a 10% capacity. Engineering is maintained by our sole Chief Officer, but as he has 20 years of experience he is able to fix the ship to work at baseline even by himself. Gun crew have lost a few men, both from enemy fire and vacuum breach; it seems half of the Medical Staff evacuated on Lambda shuttles with the officers that left the Argo, and the Chief Medical officer was crushed by a falling beam while escaping; and fortunately the hangar bay crew have suffered only minor casualties, and one death. We've lost most of our primary squadrons in the Battle of Endor, but we still have several reserve TIE fighter units on standby in both Hangar Bays."

"That last part is the best news I've heard. The one thing I don't need to face, are those X-Wings. What about Propulsion? Cannons even?"

"We still have power to the engines, but it's not enough to our run even a Rebel Freighter should one show up. As for cannons, uuuh."

"Say it Lieutenant. This dark day in the history of the Empire will not get brighter for us. Please, be honest."

"We lost the entire Port Turbolasers commander."

"...What?"

"S-sorry, sir. B-but when we charged into the Rebel Blockade and fired on both sides of the ship, the Mon Calamari frigate on our port got a clean shot across our port gun deck. They're all destroyed right before we jumped. W-we still have the starboard cannons, but they need some repairing before they could fire effectively. Th-there are still about 68% medium turbolasers left across the ship's hull for anti-starfighter defense."

"...,...,...,...,...,...,..."

"...C-Commander?"

"The Death Star is destroyed. our Emperor is murdered. And the Captain tried to kill me for trying to not get us all killed...Where did we go wrong?"

"H-how can you say that sir! It was those d*mn Rebels' fault! They were the one responsible for knocking down our shield generator on Endor! Then the whole fleet took advantage of the Death Star's vulnerability! This is all their doing!"

"You say that... yet, deep down...We know that's only half true."

"S-sir?"

There was so much burning, so many things melting in the Bridge, the Commander thought. All the rubber in the wires were melted to the point of releasing a foul smell. Whatever was left of the air filtration system wasn't enough to eject the foul stench out from the Bridge.

The main viewports that kept out the empty vacuum of space were cracked. Only specialized glue were spread over the fissures to both keep the air in, and to temporarily seal the cracks until a full maintenance crew could attend to it. Electric sparks rained down around him and the Lieutenant.

The low murmur of officers struggling to fix the power lines and ship's system, along with the wave of moaning from the injured. It was enough to make Van Couver stare blanking out of the viewport... eyeing a lonely little planet in the location they were in.

"... The Battle of Yavin... should have told us the truth."

"..."

"Since the beginning, we've always thought the Empire was the hero. We always believed them to be doing the right thing and keeping peace in the galaxy. That's why I signed up. That's why you signed up. That's why everyone on the _Argo_ had signed up. We all hoped we could grow up and become great heroes to our families, to our friends, and maybe to our children. Serving the Empire to protect the galaxies."

"...C-Commander—"

"Now look at us. The Rebel Alliance has turned everything against us. They pushed us back from the key planetary systems, we've lost one sector after another, all those civilians we were sworn to protect turning their backs on us."

"C-Commander, y-you need to—"

"We're the bad guys... I've finally realized that sad truth. The moment the first Death Star destroyed the planet Alderaan... I realized, then... we were seen as the evil ones... Maybe it was because of what the Emperor and Lord Vader had done to the planet... it would eventually come to this..."

"W-wait! Sir, look over at—"

Van Couver couldn't resist any further. He had to give out a long and low sigh. Or else the gnawing sensation in his chest would destroy him.

"We had hoped to turn our luck around with the Battle of Endor. I still believed that the Empire was fighting for the right reason...In the end... I was delusional."

"—INCOMING! INCOMIIIIING!"

"Hmm?"

Van Couver snapped out of his thoughts. It was obvious for an exhausted soldier to plummet into deep reflection after a dire battle. It was the only way one's mind could unwind, to grasp at the situation properly, if not release any tension that the body had carried until this point. Otherwise, he would have gone truly insane...Unfortunately...

"...Isn't that... the _Titan_?"

"BRACE! BRACE!"

"SITHSPIT, NOT AGAIN!"

The Commander threw himself and his Lieutenant to the deck of the Bridge. This gesture was enough to have everyone else to stop what their doing and took cover behind consoles, computer pillars, or anything that could hide them.

As if it would effectively protect them from a certain burning Victory Class Star Destroyer that came flipping right out of hyperspace.

"SH*T, THE _TITAN'S_ HYPERDRIVE MUST HAVE DELAYED AND IS SHOWING UP BEHIND US NOW! QUICK, HELMSMAN, MOVE THE ARGO TO—"

It was already too late for the Star Destroy _Argo_ to move out of the way... rather, there was no need. The smoking Victory class Star Destroyer ended up flying right over their ship's bridge head, by a hairbreadth. The ship ended up drifting lazily into space. The Commander poked his head up from the ground, like a groundhog checking for eagles in the sky. From his angle, he could tell the flying Star Destroyer's engine was completely out.

"... C-Commander! L-Lieutenant! W-we're being hailed!"

"Who?"

For a second, Van Couver thought a Rebel ship had appeared out of nowhere, demanding the Argo's unconditional surrender. However, what was said next by the bridge officer hit him harder.

"I-it's the _Titan_ , sir! Sh-she's hailing us! A-an S-O-S!"


	4. BLEEDING OUT

...

 **#: ARGO :#**  
 _ **(A Star Wars Story)**_

 **Report 4  
** _\- Bleed -_

* * *

###############################

 **Medical Officer Log, Personal Diary (30 minutes before escape)**

 _There's too many injured on board the_ Titan _. Even when I'm fully staffed, I don't have enough hands to care for those injured by blaster fire, or TIE pilots who came back half-dead. This is the time where I always think if I made the right decision in becoming a doctor. I've hated people since I was born. I hated how they lack personal hygiene, never washing their hands after they use the washroom, and how most of them won't stop grabbing my *ss. When the Empire wins this battle, I will thoroughly decided whether I should resign my position as Naval Medical officer and just work in a clinic in Nar Shadaa... I heard they pay good with lots of—(RECORD TERMINATED)._

###############################

* * *

"...I...don't want to die... not in this... stench..."

Maria Seacolle opened her eyes. She saw red, everything in her vision was a damp crimson. She wasn't angry, neither was she p*ssed, she just saw red.

"...I hate blood."

With a bruised hand, she tried to wipe the red color from her eyes. No matter how many times she ripped the red fluid from her face, it kept dripping down.

"...Sithspit. Is this my blood?"

Because Maria Seacolle's skin was a soft ebony color, and with her rattled mind, it was hard to discern if the red on her hand was actually blood or maybe fuel stains from the ship's cracked ceiling. Either way, she frowned.

"...Get up... patients need you Seacolle... even, if they try and pinch you all over. D*mn it my wrist!"

The Doctor tried to rise to her feet. She looked down at her legs. It was supposed to covered in an expensive stocking, but something tore it open to show her skin. It was protection from lechers who come to the _Titan's_ Sickbay every now and then with 'ailments'. She hoped it deterred them from staring at her thighs, but alas the stockings seemed to increase the frequency of the random visits by 20%. There were even girls thrown in the count, oddly.

"...53... That's how many are in sickbay...Wh...where did they go?"

The medical center of the Star Destroyer _Titan_ was an equal size to two classrooms built together. It invested heavily on its medical bay, Bacta technology, and even added in expensive medical droids as her assistants that doubled as automated nurses. The bioscanners, the bacta tanks, the droids, and the 53 patients she was last seeing while in the firefight back in Endor... they were all laying across the ground.

"...You... got to be kidding—HUUUURK!"

The Doctor threw up. You'd think she was used to seeing collateral damage of this scale. Mind you, she even served as an Imperial Army doctor in Battles like Hoth, Xagobah, and even the Siege of Inyusu Tor. It was because she felt exhausted from running around, so she decided to enlisted into the navy as a Medical Officer on a Star Destroyer. So, the real reason why she was vomiting was quite clear.

"D*mn. D-did I get a concussion? Th-this isn't the time for that! Uurk."

Even with a raging headache and stumbling gait, Maria Seacolle picked up her medical scanners and started to check the vitals of the 53 patient who ended up on the floor.

 **Pulse: 0**

"N...next one. Chief Gunner Anton."

 **Pulse: 0**

"Tch. Roak. Even if you are the ship's cook, I don't see how it's relevant to be working at the stove in the middle of a ship's battle!"

 **Pulse: 0**.

"... Chief Petty Officer Lia. Commander Sania?"

 **Pulse: 0. Pulse: 0.**

"..."

 _ **Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0. Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_ _ **Pulse 0.**_

— **Pulse: 80/70**

"Finally, a life sign. Don't give up on me you...Rebel?"

Maria Seacolle woke up. No, she didn't pass out, neither did she go into a depressing spiral where she was trapped in a secluded dream. Rather, her concussion was so bad, she completely forgot why she staggered out of the medical bay. She realized her body had been moving on its own for a total of 5 minutes (she checked her watch), her hand carrying the hand held biometers to scan for survivors. _Any_ survivors. It was like a mouse mindlessly tracking after cheese crumbs... until it hit the jackpot.

The prize was a Rebel Soldier who was lying on his back across the floor, covered in black soot and explosion burns over his exposed skin and face.

"...D...don't move...O-or I'll shoot you!"

"How the nether are you going to kill me in that condition? You're missing an arm, soldier."

"D-don't come any closer, I-I'm serious...Wait? My arm...oh...Oh...OH SH—"

"D*mn, his subconscious wasn't aware he's missing a limb! I messed up!"

Seeing the entire cornea sinking into the back of the enemy soldier's eyes, Maria Seacolle quickly tried to grab the soldier's body before it hit the ground. The last thing she needed, was even this enemy survivor to be another Pulse 0.

Even in her concussion, the Good Doctor remember what happened. The Star Destroyer _Titan_ was under attack. They were following other ships to straight charge through a blockade, but suffered heavy damages from the enemy cannons. It was to the point where they nearly took out their engines. In the rampage, a Corellian Corvette was lucky enough to get in close under and out of the turbo laser's line of sight, shooting volleys of ion lasers to knock out one side of its automated anti-ship battery.

The last thing Maria Seacolle heard on the intercoms, that the ship had been boarded by Rebel Soldiers. Then, everything turned into a blur from a series of chain explosions across the ship hull, power failure, and the conducting an emergency warp out of the Battle. That was the point where she blacked out. Now, she saw the same Rebel Trooper who had been part of the boarding party. He was a young man in medium-class armor, which was resistive enough to endure a blaster bolt to the chest or two...However.

"You seriously need to request your armor designer to re-think over his schematics. A single shrapnel from the ship's wall is enough to cut through the joints between your shoulder and arm guard!"

"Aaaah! H-help me! I-I don't want to die, n-not while I'm trapped on the enemy ship!"

"I completely understand, so please stop thrashing like an animal! You're bleeding everywhere and this isn't helping to apply pressure to your wound!"

Maria Seacolle focused on stopping the bleeding from the stump of the Rebel Soldier's arm. She didn't have a belt, she wore a skirt (duh), so she quickly dove through some of the dead bodies and ripped off a belt from a fallen Imperial officer. At the very least, she uttered as 'sorry', before she used the belt to tie off the sliced arm.

"Wh-what are you doing!?"

"Putting a tourniquet on your arm, what else!? Stop panicking, your blood pressure at this point is not helping you stay alive any longer!"

"I, I didn't want this. I-I only want to end this stupid civil war and go home! Just when we finally won over the Empire again! I can't end like this."

"...You'll get home."

"Sh-shut up. All you imperials are the same. Once you help me, you'll eventually capture me and interrogate me. I'm not going to betray the Rebell Alliance!"

"Either you're experiencing symptoms of delusions or you're just plain stupid! I'm a doctor! I don't care who my patient is, whether they be an Imperial Ensign or even a Rebel General. If you're in need, I offer my assistance. That is the oath I've taken."

"Stay away from me. God-d*mn Imperial!"

The moment Maria Seacolle tied up the belt around the stump to stop the bleeding, she let out a sigh - and received a kick in the gut.

"GUUUH!"

Her small body went tumbling into the air by several inches off the ground. With a heavy splat, she found herself rolling across the ship tiles and over couple of bodies. The one she landed on was an Ensign she recognized. She was a young girl, having only turned 20 last year. She was so eager to serve proudly on an Imperial Star Destroyer, the young and starry eyed Ensign was ready to fight the food fight with all her might.

"...Would this mean... I'll be joining you, E-Ensign Matlea?"

The body of the Ensign she fell on had no reaction. No answer, no flinch, not even breath. Those wide once starry eyes... they had been dulled out. It was sad, she was lying on the ground in her own pool of blood, the beam from the ship's ceiling stabbed through her abdomen.

"...No one wants to die boy, not in this stupid war."

"D-don't move! I'll shoot, I swear! I swear to God I'll kill you!"

"...Good luck with your arm dumb*ss."

Maria Seacolle knew what she said was unbecoming of a doctor. The very gesture was breaching her Hippocratic Oath. But she didn't care. It was because she knew how ungrateful her patients were, despite saving them one too many times from near death. This last moment was no exception.

"F-FOR THE REB—"

 ** _*PEEW*_**

"...Ah."

Before the soldier could squeeze off a shot, the door behind him suddenly opened. It shocked Maria Seacolle. It was because that was the exit to one of the escape pods. The lights and electronic signs already state it was empty, the pod was already gone, so everything should be sealed to keep the vacuum out.

But it slid open, forcing itself ajar for a group of Stormtroopers to rush into the ship's corridor. The first order of business for them, was shooting down the Rebel Soldier that threatened to harm Imperial Personnel, namely the Doctor. Even if he had only one arm, he was still armed with a blaster pistol. In a split second decision, there was no room to deliberate whether the injured enemy should live or not — Shoot first. Don't bother asking questions.

"Secure the area. Eliminate all enemy units on sight, go, go!"

Maria Seacolle watched. More Stormtroopers and a leading Imperial Officers entered the ship via the empty escape pod hatch. If her concussion wasn't that bad, she would have deduced they were using a specialized boarding vessel that could dock to any known opening on a ship be it allied or enemy.

The Stormtroopers spread out in all direction, scanning rooms, checking corners, and pulling the trigger on any Rebel Soldiers down another hall the Doctor didn't notice. After a grueling 10 seconds of armor clattering sounds, one of the soldiers approached the fallen Doctor. The trooper was armed with a standard issue E-11 BlasTech rifle, with an effective fighting range of 350 meter, three combat settings of stun-sting-kill, an advanced onboard cooling system, and a battery power cells that could fire 200 - 500 blaster bolts. A formidable weapon representing the Iron Will of the Empire. It was just as scary as the people who wield them on the battlefield.

"Make it fast people, the _Titan_ is about to fall into the star's orbit. If we don't hurry and secure the survivors, we won't be able to get away from the gravitational pull—You, on the ground! Identify yourself!"

"...Are you... a woman?"

"I said identify yourself! Or else I'll shoot."

"... Chief Ph-physician of the St-Star Destroyer Ti-Ti- _Titan_. Do-Doctor Seacolle. I-I'm un-un armed."

"Checking, hold still...Confirmed, your ID bracelet checks out. Medical Officer Maria Bri'Tish Seacolle. Wait, why are you stuttering?"

"Gnngg-nnng-nnng. C-concuss-Cus-Cus-Cus-M-M-Medical A-att-att-"

"Medic! Get a Medic, over here! This person needs medical attention! Now!"

The Stormtrooper who found Maria Seacolle did indeed sounded like a woman. She had this distinct voice where she should have been in the Galactic Opera Business, but oddly chose a career of joining the Galactic Imperial Marine Corp. She waved an armored hand to several members of her boarding party and one Imperial Soldier with a red cross on his armor. They quickly stopped critical bleeding on the fallen Doctor, and administering fast-acting injections to reduce the swelling of her concussed brain.

"Y-you-you-you-wh-who-who?"

"TK-1867. Sergeant Kanata of the Star Destroyer _Argo,_ 502nd Air Regiment. Our Commander dispatched us to look for survivors on the _Titan_ before it drops into the nearby star."

"Y-y-you-look-look-ri-ri-ridiculous-with-with-that-helm-helm-helmet. H-ha-ha—Guhg."

"What does that suppose to mean? Are you trying to pick a fight with a Stormtrooper or is it the concussion that's talking spat—SH*T, Wake up! Don't just roll your eyes back into your head with the last laugh! D*mn it, round up the survivors and let's get back, ASAP!


	5. HALF STATUS

...

 **#: ARGO :#**  
 _ **(A Star Wars Story)**_

 **Report 5  
** _\- Status -_

* * *

 **#############################**

 **[Commander's Log, Post-Disaster Report]**

 _ **The**_ **Argo** _ **is in bad shape. We lost half the number of crew to both attacks and breaches in the hull. Our tech teams and only maintenance personnel have sealed the breaches. Life support is damaged, but still stable. First priority is to repair them the second we get our bearings. Currently holding position in the Bespin System as per evacuation protocol. Once engines are back online, we will make route for an Imperial refueling depot located in this sector. Encountered the Star Destroyer**_ **Titan** _ **drifting in bad condition. We've recovered some survivors from the ship, I am on my way to Hangar 5 to meet them. End Record.**_

 **#############################**

* * *

"S-sir, the Boarding Ship has returned. Beginning to seal the hangar hatchway."

"Proceed Lieutenant Hiss. The moment you've completed the docking procedures return to the bridge and take over until I return."

"Y-Yes, Commander!"

Commander Van Couver gave his lieutenant a firm pat on the shoulder, a small gesture to say 'good work'. Wilhelm His always felt calm whenever he received this small token of gratitude. In the Imperial Military, it's frowned upon for Commanding officers to constantly compliment the work of every lower ranking personnel. Something about showing yourself as weak and a push-over, which would be bad for morale and authority.

The two Naval officers never really believed in that garbage they were taught in the Imperial Academy, that was for sure. So they 'improvised' under some loopholes to find respect for one another. Especially when the Empire was about to fall apart.

"Clear the way. Clear the way! Get whatever medical staff we have left, I don't care if they're ensigns, students, or even First-Aid able. We have wounded coming on board. So hurry!"

Van Couver made his way down the flight of stairs that lead from the hangar console and down to the deck of Hangar Bay 5. The Star Destroyer _Argo_ had one entrance under its belly to allow the deployment of TIE Fighters and Lambda Shuttles coming and going. To make sure there were no conflict in space and to prevent planes from hitting each other when launching, the whole area was quartered up into various holding bays.

Hangar 3 and Hangar 4, major sections to deploy heavy shuttles carrying AT-ATs and assortment of AT-ST walkers were offline and badly damage with debris from the ceiling scaffolding. The crew were working quickly to remove it, but most of the manpower were diverted to higher priority fix-ups, say the life support system, the deflector shields rooms, and the hyperdrive chamber.

Whoever survived in the engineering room must be really talented to be capable of keeping the whole ship from collapsing with just two hands. Van Couver had guesses, it most be those years of experience that man had acquired during his service in to the Imperial Navy.

"Commander on deck. All passengers accounted for."

"At ease trooper, give me a report."

The Commander reached one Lamdba class shuttle that had just touched down on the steel hangar floor. With only a minimal amount of light shining down, it felt like the man was walking into a dim-lit garage. The loading ramp of the shuttle opened up its mouth, and out poured a series of Stormtroopers, Battle Officers, and multiple naval officers that he had never seen before.

He deduced those men and woman that tumbled out of the cramp shuttle, were survivors on board the _Titan_.

"Commander. TK-1867 reporting in sir."

"Is your team alright soldier?"

"Yes sir. One of my men is injured by a Rebel soldier hiding on board the _Titan_ , but his armor held. All he need is a quick check up in sickbay and he should be fine."

"I'm glad everyone made it out safely."

"..."

"...Soldier. Report. What was the _Titan's_ Casualty."

"We recovered 30 personnel altogether, sir. Most of the ones we found were either dead, or in no condition to be moved without their internal organs failing. Our Medical team could only ease their pain with strong doses of sedatives."

"30? Of the 2040? Only 20?"

"Yes sir. Majority of the ship's hull had burst open... the mess hall, the barracks, every deck or wing that would have a lot of people were ripped open for the outside space to breath in sir. Even their hangar was a complete vacuum, my men couldn't risk entering without being tossed into space."

"Good god."

Van Couver hid his frown by covering up his face with only one hand. The last thing he wanted to do, was to make the atmosphere any worse with an expression that everyone could read. All the people who survived the Battle of Endor on a barely stable ship were already on the brink of depression. There was no need for him to inadvertently kick them over and into the pit by making a face.

"...Sir? Your orders."

"You did well, trooper. Get your men checked in for any other injuries. If you have the time, see if you can help out with whatever medical unit we have in sickbay. Our officers are either dead or had taken to the escape pods when we didn't notice. It's only ensigns and caretakers with a few years of experience."

"Yes sir. Right away... Oh, and sir. I need to make one more report."

"What is it?"

The Commander eyed the Stormtrooper he was talking to. Even through the muffled voice filter, he could tell this person was a female. And she was of sergeant rank. She must have worked hard to obtain that position given the Imperial Navy was a male-dominant society. Most female would normally take up positions as bridge officers or naval secretaries. To carry a weapon into the frontlines like TK-1867, that takes more than balls... figuratively speaking.

And this female Stormtrooper caught his attention when she turned around to point at the offload ramp of the Lambda shuttle.

"She suffered a major concussion some time when the _Titan_ was hit sir. She refused all care and wouldn't even let us carry her in a stretcher. She complained about how she was a big girl and could walk on her own two feet."

"...Who is she?"

"Dr. Maria Seacolle, the Chief Medical Officer of the Star Destroyer _Titan_ , sir."


	6. LONG HEALING

...

 **#: ARGO :#**  
 _ **(A Star Wars Story)**_

 **Report 6  
** _\- Healing -_

* * *

 **#################################**

 **[Petty Officer Flo Nightingale, Medical Care Report.]**

 _ **Patient is named Dr. Maria Bri-Tish Seacolle, the primary care physician in charge of the Star Destroyer**_ **Titan's** _ **personnel. The Retrieval Unit recovered her from the remains of the ship and brought her back to the**_ **Argo** _ **. Medical Trooper TK-1914 reported the patient to show signs of uneven dilation of pupils, unsteady gait whenever she walks, and increased blood pressure. He conducted an a eye coordination and mental assessment check, concluding patient has a severe concussion radiating from Front Lobe damage, potentially Counter Coup caused by ship collision. The patient also has superficial injuries across her arm and legs, 5 - 8 cm cuts from shards of plasteel glass and has a 6 cm long metal shrapnel locked in the back of her shoulder. Beginning to conduct full detailed assessment and will provide immediate medical attention to reduce swelling of the brain.**_ **~~ F. Nightingale (TIME-STAMP)**

 **#################################**

* * *

"You-you're in no condition to be walking around right now!"

"What are you worried about, Petty Officer. You gave an injection to reduce the effects of a concussion, right?"

"That may be, but it's a slow acting drug to prevent any s-side effects of irritation to the skin and potential liver damage. I-if you move around so recklessly, you might have Nausea and vomiting."

"Please. I'm a doctor, I know what I'm—BLEEEEEEEGH!"

"See!? See!? I told you to sit still Doctor!"

Flo Nightingale was small. She was well above the age of 20 yet she looked like she could easily go undercover in an elementary school. She wasn't a midget, no, no, rather she resembled a smaller scale adult by all standards. It couldn't be helped, it was a matter of genetics and upbringing.

Her mother as a human, for sure, but her father was an alien breed that were known for their short stature. What breed he was, was unclear. It was a name that's hard to pronounce without biting your tongue. And it involved a lot of Ruby Bleis, on a lonely night in a bar. Even to this day, what her other half was still a mystery. The only way people won't think of her as entirely as a child, would be those knife like ears and violent-pink pluffy hair that looked like a sea sponge or coralreef.

Still she was hard working, honest and—

"See. I'm fine. Allow me to walk a straight line and—WOOP!"

"DOCTOR! YOU'RE EQUILIBRIUM IS STILL UNDER REPAIR! JUST SIT STILL FOR 10 MINUTES FIRST!"

Flo Nightingale tried to keep the tall and dark-skinned Doctor from falling over like ragdoll. She knew the woman's diagnosis was concussion, so she was in no condition to walk around let alone let her brain run while she was under injured state.

That was why the Petty Officer administered a special medication via gas injection that should be able to help repair her muddled mind for the next half hour. The slurring stopped, meaning the petite seizures had passed, but this didn't mean the doctor's sense of balance was stable yet.

Even so, this Doctor Maria Seacolle seemed to be in a hurry.

"I see a Science Officer in need of a tracheotomy right this minute. His entire trachea is crushed in and he is unable to breath properly. Then that bridge officer needs to have a full BioScan and MRI to check for internal bleeding in her cranium."

"W-we're working on it as fast as we can, b-but our former Chief Medical officer and most of his medical crew were killed in the last Rebel Attack. We don't have anyone experienced enough to conduct full blown surgery at this time."

"Little girl, I'm qualified through and through. I'm registered to the Galactic College of Physicians and I have over 3500 hours worth of surgical experience. I can—Uwoop!"

"Please sit down right now! If you keep disobeying a direct order, I-I'll have he Commander force you to sit down!"

"...Little girl. What is your rank?"

"P...P...P...P-Petty Officer."

"Which do you prefer as punishment for disrespecting a senior officer? A full case court-martial, or a slap to the face?"

"Meap! P-please don't hit my face!"

Flo Nightingale tried. She really did. But it was because of how small she was compared to most humans and aliens, no one ever takes her seriously. Since childhood, she never had the necessary confidence to persuade others of what is right and wrong. And when she did, they all thought she tuned into an angry hamster. Or, an angry hamster with a pink sponge on her head due to her obnoxious pink curls. It was sad really.

So often times, it took people of bigger size to give her a helping hand to increase her diplomacy points.

"Petty Officer Nightingale. What is the situation with out doctor?"

"Oh thank the Emperor! You're here Commander! Th-this woman is in no condition to move, but she won't listen!"

"I see. I'll take it from here, see if you can tend to the others."

"Y-yes, sir."

The Petty Officer gave Commander Van Couver a quick salute and ran off. The way she moved was like a child trying to run after a bus that refused to stop for her. Before she left to carry out her duties, however, she had the opportunity to listen in to the Commander's conversation.

She hoped maybe this encounter could teach her how to be persuasive when the time calls for it.

"You're the Chief Medical Officer?"

"What of it, little baby? You're so small you can't even crawl to save your life!"

"That's my feet your talking to, Miss Seacolle."

"Geh, th-the double vision won't just go away! D*mn it!"

"I know you're in bad shape, but I need you right now doctor. You're the only one with the right medical experience to solve this problem."

"What would that be? I'm just trying to stand up, but I keep ending up falling on my *ss. The last thing I want is everyone seeing me slip around like a newborn Volga."

"...A what?"

"A type of Cow with wings, fangs, and shoots flames out of its—but that's not the point."

Flo Nightingale listened closely. She tried to memorize the tone, the clarity, and the tension the Commander gave off, whenever he was trying to give an order. Ever since she served on the _Argo_ , it was highly likely the only person with the right charisma to make people see things his way, was him.

So she hoped he could at least persuade the Doctor to consider bed rest.

"There's no time for you to get sober like a drunk space driver. Come on, I'll be your crutch. Up and atem."

"Uwoooh! D-don't pull so hard! Th-the floor is giving way! I-is it turning into quick sand! Wh-why do I see a Sarlaac pit opening up middle of a Star Destroyer deck!? D-don't let it grab my legs!"

"That's just an energy coil on the loose - could someone tape that thing down before it zaps anyone!"

"...I'm so hopeless."

In the end, Flo Nightingale gave up. Even after listening closely, trying to learn from a professional who knew how to give orders, she still couldn't pick up anything key she could use for herself. Knowing Van Couver's level was beyond her, she resigned herself in bandaging the wounded... crying for some reason.


	7. MENDING WOUNDS

...

 **#: ARGO :#**  
 _ **(A Star Wars Story)**_

 **Report 7  
** _\- Wounds -_

* * *

#######################

 **[Doctor's Diary, Supplement]**

 **My headache is gone. The injection had freed me from the unnecessary migraine and I got some sense of balance left in my ear fluids. Still my hands are shaking and I lack fine coordination. I'll hold off any surgery for the next 20 minutes until the medication settles in my bloodstream. I now find myself on board the Star Destroyer _Argo_. I heard of this ship, and it's tyrant of a captain. He was the type of man who strive for greatness, even if he had to drag his men through dirt and mud to achieve it. He was also the kind of person who would be the last person you expect to leave a battlefield, not out of pride but out of stubbornness. To see this ship having left the Battle of Endor so quickly, could only mean one thing. And I was right, Commander Van Couver brought me over to revive an injured captain. Unconscious after a collision with a Rebel ship he said... Since the _Argo_ had saved me from the failing Titan, I guess I should return the favor.**

#######################

* * *

"He's dead, Commander."

"I ask you to help him, not declare him deceased! He still has a pulse god-d*mn it!"

"Indeed, but that's only because half of his body is relying on the Bacta he's dipped into. He may look intact, but I can assure you 90% of his body composition is thoroughly cooked from plasma damage."

Dr. Maria Seacolle took an unsteady step backwards. Her mind was better now that the medication cleared up her concussion, but her sense of balance was still a little iffy. She was constantly holding onto a rail bar or the console of a computer, just to keep herself tipping over like a tea pot. Standing next to her was the Second in Command of the ship _Argo_. Both of them were in the sickbay of the said ship, staring at one of the many bodies floating in a thick and gelatinous substance made of bubbling blue liquid.

Bacta, a special biological healing fluid that was capable of healing over any kind of injury and wounds. If the patient wasn't in critical to the point of needing surgery, even someone covered in frostbite could be rejuvenated by dumping them in a vat of this medical fluid. The one they were looking at was filled with the unconscious body of the _Argo's_ captain. He could be see floating up and down like a specimen in a jar of preservative, eyes closed and arms splayed out like a butterfly on display.

It was a sight that could be seen as more eerie than sad.

"Isn't there anything you could do? This ship needs him if we need to survive against another Rebel Attack. We've already lost communication with the other capital ships back on Endor. And our long range relay was taken out by an A-Wing attack. We are unable to send or receive orders from even Coruscant."

"The only thing keeping this man alive is the Bacta. You take him out, even for 10 seconds, he'll go into both cardiac and respiratory shock. His two legs, his right arm, and his entire abdomen has been roasted by whatever fell on him."

"...Bridge columns... I guess a couple of loose energy wires touched him."

"That or a blaster fire at point blank."

"..."

"Does this rumor I've been hearing across the ship perhaps concern you to some degree?"

"...Cough."

"Sigh. The things humans do when they're trapped in a corner."

"I...don't know."

The Doctor paused in playing around with the console of the captain's Bacta Tank when she heard those small words. Weak and unsure. She only had to glance to her side to see the Commander hiding a gripping hand behind his back.

"... I asked we retreat from the fight."

"Oh. I've heard of this man's temper. It's legendary among the star fleet."

"Yeah. He didn't like it... he charged me with treason and had me executed."

"Yet you're still standing next to me. Talking like a lost sheep. I'll be honest, I don't believe in spirits and spiritual cr*p like that."

"..."

"... You drew your weapon on him too eh?"

"I-I didn't get a chance to think by the time I realized I had my own pistol in my hand."

"Who shot first before the _Argo_ got hit?"

"That's the thing... I can't remember anymore. I'm not even sure if either we both tried to shoot each other in the last minute... or not at all."

The Doctor braced herself onto the console, so she could turn her head to the Commander. He held his ground, stoic, and unmoving. She knew he didn't want to show any weakness, especially when the ship was in tatters. But the way he opened and closed his hands like that... was a bad habit he had to think about.

"...Accident."

"P-pardon, Doctor?"

"I rule the cause of the captain's wound as an accident. Once this ship returns to the nearest Imperial Base in the closest system, I will provide a full medical report to their military doctors on station. From there, they will conduct a thorough internal investigation... Until then."

"This is classified as an accident?"

"Yes. An accident. Maybe if I'm in the mood, I could do a simulated autopsy with the computer."

"..."

"...That was a joke, Commander. Humor helps to alleviate high levels of stress."

"Sorry. I'm in no mood to laugh right now."

The Doctor wanted to open her mouth, to say something to end this conversation on a good note... in the end nothing came out of her lips.

Because she knew, there was no good future for the Argo right now.


	8. WAR HORN

...

 **#: ARGO :#**  
 _ **(A Star Wars Story)**_

 **Report 8  
** _\- Horn -_

* * *

 **#################################**

 **[Lieutenant's Log, Summarized Ship Report]**

 _ **Life support system is fully operational, but we had to divert power from nonessential quarters to support the power leakage in the system. Due to the major overflow of our sickbay, we converted the mess and recreational wings into improvised medical centers. They are sorted by severity of wounds, where those who require intensive care or atomic-surgery would be held in a specialized quarter that has sterilized beforehand. Engine is down to 20% and stabilizing. Shields are at 30% but engineering have not been able to repair the recharge generator to bring the shield back on full. All personnel who could still function were reassigned to different parts of the ship that are in need of hands. Will provide another sit-rep in the next hour. End Report and Finalize.**_

 **##################################**

* * *

"What do you think Harry? Are we truly sunk at this point?"

"As much as I like to feed your cynicism, I'll pass."

"Harry, th-this isn't the time to be joking man!"

Lieutenant Wilhelm Hiss had command of the bridge. The Captain was hanging onto dear life in sickbay and the Commander was currently personally assessing the damages all across the _Argo_. The Lieutenant himself was trying to maintain a sense of order, hopefully morale, among the bridge officers who were too scared to speak about how they felt in this hopeless situation.

Somehow, the young man felt whatever air that supported this crew was slowly being released. He tried to seal it up by speaking with a friend of his, the same person he had been with since the first days at the Imperial Academy.

The Helmsman of the _Argo_.

"Well Harry, you have to have something to say about this?"

"For starters, the _Argo_ was never fitted to fight a real Mon Calamari cruiser. The captain may boast this thing could kill three in one shot, but he's overselling this girl's abilities. She would be lucky if she could punch one in the face and run away to live to spread the word."

"Th-this isn't funny! Could you please take me seriously! I-I don't know what to do other than making report after report of bad news. Yo-you were always the funny one in our class, t-try to raise some morale like you always do to our grad class during the final examination period!"

"Ahem. Live long and prosper."

"That's not appropriate in a time like this! And put your hand down!"

Wilhelm Hiss groaned. He had troubled to keep his emotions in check, or to properly express them. So he had developed this habit of letting it go with a small groan through the teeth. The man he was talking to was Flight Officer Harry Ford, someone who graduated in the top of the class in the category of helmsmanship.

This man was a legend, in being the class clown. He spent his free hours flirting with girls or making jokes with the junior students during the days in the Imperial Academy. Wilhelm Hiss knew, there was never a time where Harry Ford had ever touched a book on avionics, navigation, or even star mapping.

Yet this man had graduated with something on par of Magna Cum Laude. How Harry Ford succeed this far in life without even having to touch a page in a textbook, Wilhelm Hiss didn't know. It could be the fact there was a rumor going on about how he was the son of a Tibanna Gas tycoon back on Bespin.

To this day, Flight Officer Ford has yet to confirm or reject that rumor.

"...What did you think about the Captain?"

"About what?"

"You know... how...he tried to shoot the Commander, when he was trying to do the right thing and saving us."

"Everyone saw it man, there's no need to whisper."

"Ssssh! Not so loud."

"I THOUGHT IT WAS CRAZY THE CAP TRIED TO MURDER HIS BEST MATE!"

"I SAID NOT TOO LOUD YOU IDIOT BANTHA!"

The Lieutenant raised a fist to warn the Helmsman to keep his voice down, to maybe silence him from bringing down morale... But maybe because everyone was too worried about their survival on a failing ship, that they all just zoned out and worked like drone bees in a hive. All that yelling from the two officers fell on deaf ears.

"I see why you failed your psych classes my friend. Everyone can't come to terms with the cards reality dealt them. This isn't a game about Poker-22 or Blackjack-Counting, but a high-stakes game of Texadius Hold-Up where the loser is stripped naked and shot."

"Th-this isn't the time to be thinking of gambling! Focus! We're in a mess! Our Captains out of commission and we lost half our crew! We have to think of something to turn this misfortune around!"

"Gee. I wish I could help you. But all of my solutions involve one form of Sabaac or another."

"D*MN IT, HARRY! YOU'RE NOT HELPING ME!"

"My job in the Imperial Fleet is to drive ships. If your problem doesn't involve me plotting a course or jumping into hyperspeed, then you're asking the wrong guy to fix yourself."

"Mr. Ford, set me coordinates to the main Imperial Naval yard in Coruscant. We have to return and report back to the base of what happened at Endor."

"...Pfft. Nice one, Willy. For a second your half-*ss ventriloquism act nearly—Oh sh*t—Ah-ahem! A-Aye Commander! Cough! P-plotting jump course to Coruscant!"

"C-Commander, y-you're back!?"

Wilhelm Hiss first watched his class clown friend bolt in his seat and turn to his ship controls, before he jumped and turned to the bridge door. Walking through it was the Commander Van Couver. To summarize, he looked like he was going to throw up - but was forcing his stomach to keep his guts in check.

"Hm-hmm. Status, Mr. Hiss."

"A-all personnel have been re-coordinated to their necessary stations, regardless of specialties. We're running on a skeleton crew now."

"Engines?"

"Still at 20% efficiency. The engines had been under a load of stress when we tried to pry away from the disabled Nebulon that collided into us. Also, we pushed it overcapacity while trying to slice through the Rebel Blockade. It will take a while to fully repair the damages from overheating."

"That so called Ackbar Slash was too reckless. I thought that because the Rebels used it to interrupt our blockade, it would have been just as effective against them. Maybe I overestimated the hull quality compared to their Mon Calamari cruisers... I was too careless."

"No sir. You did the right thing. I ran our previous battle records into one of our simulation computers. If the Commander hadn't thought of the maneuver with the four Star Destroyers, we would have been shot down like the _Adversary_ , the _Reclaimer_ , or the _Dukemountain_. It's thanks to your quick thinking, we came out alive!

"It's okay. I'm not the captain. You don't have to go as far as bootlicking. You can be at ease with yourself."

"Um. With all due respect sir, that was myself. Those were my honest opinions... sir."

"...Sorry. My bad."

Commander Van Couver apologized and hide his grimace behind a hand. He was scowling at himself for being inconsiderate towards his Lieutenant. He wasn't even thinking when he gave such a careless response. The Commander remembered this moment and will strive to avoid re-enacting the same mistake.

"In the end, we lost a lot of good people... even had those responsible for our livelihood abandon ship. I'm really not comfortable with the amount of losses we've suffered."

"...Aye sir... B-but, what about the ones we rescued from the Titan."

"Only 30 of the 2040 on board the Victory class Star Destroyer survived. Even so they're still in too bad of shape to help out right now and I will feel guilty if I pushed them over the edge. Give them a time to catch their breath. I've already had any able Stormtroopers like TK-1867 to lend us some First Aid and Field Medics to reduce the burden to the Sickbay."

"..."

Wilhelm His was at a loss for words. Before being transferred to the _Argo_ , he had served in ships that had been in the front line facing Rebel forces in sectors like the edge of the Yavin system, Narshadda, to even pirate organizations in the Outer Rims. But to be in a situation where the ship escaped as nothing more than a wounded soldier using his own rifle as a walking stick... this was unfathomable for him to understand.

"...Wait, Commander. Wh-what about the Captain? We have a new doctor now for the ship. Wh-what did she say about the captain's condition?"

"..."

"C-Commander?"

"The...captain is in no condition to be revived. He's only alive because of our medical support systems. The moment we remove him from the Bacta he... He's just not capable of commanding the _Argo_ now."

"... Then... what do we do?"

"Who is the highest ranking officer capable of commandeering the ship?"

"W-well there's Second Star Commander Myers, but..."

"Someone call him to the bridge we need to—"

"He is KIA...he was manning the hangar bay when the ceiling crane fell on him during a Y-Wing Bombing run."

"...What about Third Star Commander Orlos?"

"He took one of our escape pods with our former Medical officers and left. Some crew said something about his mistress being among them was the daughter of a Nothoin Diamond company."

" ...Then... who is next in the chain of command?"

"..."

"Wait, Wilhelm, why are you staring at me—Oh no. No, no, no—No—I don't even have a star on my shoulder. I'm no more than the captain's guard dog. It can't be."

"Yes sir... The next in line of succession... **is you**."

"Sithspit."

The Lieutenant flinched. He knew this was a bad time to remind the Command that there was a strict no smoking, no horizontal abuse, and no cussing policy on the bridge. He felt it would be rude to bring it up at a time like this. The young Lieutenant could only watch helplessly as the Commander grabbed his head as if he had a headache.

"...Si...sir."

"I know I wanted a promotion so I could get away from that sour cow of a captain, but I don't like this situation one bit!"

"S-sir. W-we have—"

"I'm not ready. I still haven't complete my Captain's training. There is no way the Imperial Naval Command would approve me right now."

"S-sir, we really should—"

"J-just set a course to the Imperial Base orbiting Bespin. We still need to repair and refuel at the nearby Imperial outpost so—"

"ENEMY CONTACT! COMING OUT OF HYPERSPACE!"

"...What?"

The moment Wilhelm Hiss heard the Commander made that small and confused sound, the Lieutenant could see something terrible out of the ship's main screen.

Four ships blinked out of empty space and inflated right in front of the drifting _Argo_. There were two large ships that looked like carriers and the other were gunships acting as both support and escort.

"Rebel starships! T-Two MC75 Starcruisers! Th-they must have followed our hyperspace trail and chased after us! They're coming in at our Port Side right now!"

"..."

"C-Captain! Give us the order!"

The Lieutenant looked toward his Commander, who in turn stared at him. Neither of them know what to do. Without a proper leader who had the necessary experience to guide an entire ship, they knew deep in their minds this was an impossible feat to accomplish. But they had to do something... or else everyone on board the Argo will be killed by the Rebels. Given the Empire's impressions on as a tyrant of the galaxy... anyone affiliated wth them would definitel be shot. Even if hey were wounded and cripple.

That was why Wilhelm Hiss made the decision, to declare Van Couver as the Captain. There was no other choice.

"F...FIRE PORT GUNS! NOW, MR. HISS!"

"Port guns are still offline! They're too far of range for our medium turrets to hit them!"

"Sithspit—BRACE! BRACE!"

When Wilhelm Hiss heard the Commander call out incoming, he ducked under the console. Two large red laser bolts shot out from the side of the two anvil-shaped MC75 star cruisers. They slapped into the side of the Argo and shook the entire bridge like the beads in a shell. Sparks exploded, and two computer consoles was overloaded with power to the point of exploding in some of the officer's faces. The Lieutenant tried to stagger to his feet, but another beating from a second volley of laser bolts kept him from standing up properly.

"Ship's hull is down to 40%. Fire on Deck 1 to 3. Port side engine failing. Harry, plot a hyperjump coordinate again and get us out of here!"

"Sh*t! Sh*t! I can't! I can't make the jump! The hyperdrive system is shot! No coordinates or formula I've put in is being accepted! I think it's damaged from when we cut through the Rebel Blockade! Cr*p, j-just give me 10 minutes and figure something out!"

"We don't have 10 minutes—GUWOOOH!"

A third volley punched the Star Destroyer in the gut, sending everyone reeling. All this rattling forced Wilhelm Hiss to slip. He tried to claw at any console stand he could get his fingers on, but the nails just scrapped the surface.

If it weren't for Van Couver grabbing his wrist, he would have fell into one of the lower control pits and broke his neck.

"Mr. Ford, turn the ship a full starboard. We have to give our working starboard guns a chance to defend ourselves!"

"Ay-aye aye captain. Turning ship at bearing 210, bringing starboard guns to bear."

The Star Destroyer Argo was being peppered with heavy red laser bolts that shot out from the cannons on board the two MC75 Starcruisers that look like floating anvils. It swung itself around to reach out and aim its starboard deck to the two starships, before firing back with a volley of its own green lances.

Van Couver watched as the two Rebel ships exchanged fire with their own Star Destroyer. Despite the class weight difference, these enemy ships look fresh from the fight save for a few cuts and bruises. The Argo was a wounded soldier who that had its right gun-arm paralyzed. It was only a matter of time before their ship will drop faster than the first of the two enemies.

"C-Captain! They're launching fighters from the cruisers. B-Wings inbound!"

"..."

"Please Captain! Give us your order!"

Wilhelm Hiss looked up. He saw a man who he always thankful for. Whenever their original captain would go into an hot headed charge, he was the one who made sure their rear deflector shields were well covered. Whenever the ship was to do something dangerously stupid, he was prepared to deliver an emergency protocol if it failed. Someone who was always prepared for the worst in every situation the Argo got itself into.

So, he stared at Van Couver. And the man stared back at the Lieutenant.

There was only a nod of understanding between the two Imperial Officers.

"All hands, battle station! Code Red! Mr. Ford, all ahead flank! Mr. Hiss — Launch TIE Fighters."

"Aye aye captain! Launching TIE Fighter Group 'B' Flight!"


	9. SCATTERED DREAMS

...

 **#: ARGO :#**  
 _ **(A Star Wars Story)**_

 **Report 9  
** _\- Scatter -_

* * *

 _ **################################**_

 **[Pilot Log, Roy Collishaw]**

 _ **This is a sh*t show. The**_ **Argo's** _ **hangar bay is only 50% operational. Three of the four launching cranes for our TIEs are down, broken even. We can only launch one at a time, this will slow us down. The last hit right before we jumped put out too many fighters and pilots in the bay. There's only 35 TIEs fighters and interceptors left altogether but too few people to man them until they recover from their injuries. At this rate, I seriously hope we don't have to go into a sortie. It's definitely going to be a real Bantha fest if we get an emerg**_ — ***RED ALERT!* *RED ALERT* *ALL AVAILABLE PILOTS SCRAMBLE*** _ **.**_

 _ **################################**_

* * *

"Ion-engines, ignition. Targeting computer array, online. Weapon systems, green. Solar panels check OK. _Argo_ , Black Flight is fueled up and all checks are positives. Ready to rock and roll."

 _[Argo confirms. Preparing all fighters to the loading crane. Standby.]_

"...F**k. Not that old bucket arm."

Squadron Leader Roy Collishaw didn't feel comfortable. Mostly because the hangar bay was going to use his least favorite loading crane to pick ups his TIE Interceptor. There were four in total, three of them ran as smooth as a Twi'lek girl dancing in an exotic show. He loved those cranes, because they didn't throttle him around so much in his cockpit. There was only so much space in the eyeball shaped hull he was stuffed in.

The fourth one... always shook him around like a child on Christmas Morning.

" _Argo_ , this is—Guh—B Flight Leader—Geg—P-Preparing to deploy at full speed through—Geug—Hangar."

 _[Come again, B Leader, you're breaking up. Are you messing around with the transmission frequency again?]_

"No, ma'am, I'm—Gegg—Just trying to—Guug—Enjoy the view—GAOG! THAT HURTS!"

This was the reason why the fourth crane was his least favorite. It was outdated and need of a complete overhaul. When command refitted some parts of the _Argo's_ hangar, they seemed to have misplaced the order of the fourth crane. So only three old cranes were replaced with the new smoother ones that had better hydraulics. The fourth one... was considered a museum piece that no one bothered to use... unless all three other cranes broke down.

Roy Collishaw disliked the fortune of this situation.

"Flight systems are ready. Preparing to drop out of hangar and burn thrusters to full speed. Ready when you are _Argo_."

 _[Confirmed B Leader. Releasing magnetic hooks. Good Hunting.]_

"Roger that Arg—GuGG! ARGO! SOFTER! LET GO A LITTLER SOFTER!"

If there was a video drone floating outside of the Imperial-II class Star Destroyer that was exchanging red and green laser fire with Rebel Ships, the drone would definitely zoom into a peculiar TIE Interceptor that just tumbled out from the belly of the ship. It was if it lost all equilibrium and just decided to walk its way to any destination, knowing it had no better coordination than a drunk man.

"Come on girl. Stay upright! That's it! Good girl! No-no-no! I said up! Up!"

Roy Collishaw literally spoke to his TIE Interceptor console, hoping that some hidden artificial intelligence would pick up his verbal prayer and follow it through. Somehow, his small whispers was enough to upright his fighter, right before he hit a stray meteor drifting below its feet.

" _Argo_ , this is B Flight Leader, I'm away. Heading over to intercept the enemy starfighters. Get the others launching right this minute."

 _[Argo send. We'll do what we can with only one crane. You better not turn into space dust by the time the second launch is complete.]_

"Don't worry. If I don't see another fighter coming out in 10 seconds, I'll personally remind you with gunfire."

The Squad Leader growled under his helmet before shoving a sliding lever in one hand at full speed. With a twist of his second wrist, he was able to kick his TIE Interceptor running at full sprint. He swerved around from under the Star Destroyer's side, rising up to fly above the horizon of the Starboard.

... What he saw was a good example of a sh*t show.

"Oh Bantha sh—."

His TIE Interceptor was surrounded by a wave of red laser bolts flying through the gaps of his fighter. Fortunately it was nothing but an floating eyeball with two stalks grabbing onto solar panels as shields, meaning he had next to minimum mass, so he was able to avoid most enemy fire. As this ship was an upgrade of the original TIE Fighter and specialized to deal with the new Rebel A-Wing attack fighters, his Interceptor never had a shield generator installed in favor to improve only its speed. Just like it's predecessor.

Meaning one stray shot would crush him instantly, no second chances. Maybe this little fact helped to improve his instincts of 'dodging enemy fire' more.

"Argo, I count 24 B-Wings making up two main squadrons coming in hot on intercept course. Engaging! Light them up, _Maria_!"

The Pilot patted the console of his Interceptor before he hit the button on his console to bring up the auto-targeting system. With a squeeze of his trigger finger, he unloaded the multiple green laser round from the tip of his shield like wings. They struck into one B-Wing that lead the pack. With three short volleys of four laser bolts, it quickly burst the shield on the starfighter. With another squeeze, the Pilot crushed through the cockpit of the side-ways T shaped fighter, forcing it to explode into a trail of fire and dust.

"One down, 23 more to go! Where is my support!?"

Roy Collishaw heard some noises. It came in the form of an electronic chirping sound. This mean someone had a lock on him, like he did on the first B-Wing. Two fighters were now on his tail.

"... I seriously do not have time for you right now."

With a groan, the pilot grabbed the handle for the throttle and shove it all the way down to zero. This stopped his Interceptor's engines cold, only for the reverse thrusters to kick in. It was enough for him to stop dead, and letting two B wing fighters zip right past him. Igniting the forward throttle again, he chased them down while shooting them with his fighter's laser cannon.

 _[B Lead, this is B2. I've deployed and right behind you boss.]_

"Thank god, Reid. Come around on my right and intercept the B-Wing on my Left, I'll busy the other one."

The moment the first TIE Interceptor swooped into a curve in space, a second TIE Interceptor came following him. They formed into a two-wing man formation, hugging closing to one another. Without exchanging another word, they both shot criss cross from each other. The first shooting on the right and the second shooting on the left.

Both B-Wings lost their shields. When they tried to pull away, they panicked and failed to see each other. They collided and burst into burning scrap.

 _[...Boss, does that count as a kill.]_

"I don't know. I don't care. Just shoot them down or the _Argo_ is going be shooting at us for being too slow!"

 _[R-Roger that, boss.]_

Roy Collishaw turned the TIE Interceptor around. He and his wingmate swooped through a patch of floating space rock, using them as shield when a group of B-Wings chased after them. The moment he and the other pilot broke through the other side, completly exposed—

"J.E., Nash — light'em."

Before the two B-Wings could open fire with their red laser beams, a shower of green gunfire hit them from above and pierced through their shields and hull. Melting through the cockpits, the two enemy planes drifted lifelessly pass the first two Interceptors before exploding.

What had been two TIE Interceptors now became four TIE Interceptors. Each of them were marked with a B on the edge of their shield like solarpanel wings. In the Imperial Naval, they were the No. 10 Interceptor Squadron, code name B Flight.

To them, to the crew, and to their enemies in the galaxy - they liked to call themselves _Black Flight_.

"Okay, here's the sit-rep. We got to provide cover for the Argo while they fix their hyperdrive issue. Once they got a clear path, book it back to Hangar. We don't have a hyperdrive ourselves, so I really don't want to be caught hitchhiking my way across the galaxy after them. Got it guys?"

 _[Got it Boss]_

 _[Roger lead]_

 _[F**k.]_

"...Nash? You like to share something?"

[My girlfriends on the Star Destroyer _Kaiser_. The last I saw of her ship back on Endor it was on fire and badly off... Do you think she got out alright, Cap?]

"Yes."

 _[Seriously! At least try to hesitate before lying to my face!]_

"You know better than anyone else that there is nothing we can do. And we don't have the luxury of brooding over the possibility of a bad end. This is war, like it or not, someone is going to be charging at you with a blaster pistol. So swallow that despair, grip your console, and give these rebel scum h*ll."

 _[...]_

"...Or...The moment you are reunited with your sweetheart, I give you full permission to take three day shore leave with her, h*ll, I'll give you five days."

 _[TAKE THIS YOU REBEL SCUMBAAAAAAAAAAAAGS!]_

One of the four TIE Interceptors in the rear kicked into full overdrive, charging into the fray. With some twist and turns, it was able to decimate a good five B-Wings in a matter of minutes.

 _[...Boss. I think that was too much of a shock for him. Now, I'm worrying about all the trouble his girlfriend is getting into when he does finally leap at her.]_

"Hey, it motivated him. That's a good thing, Reid?"

 _[...]_

Then the remaining fighters in the group called Black Flight hit their ion engines at the maximum. Ever since they lost the Battle of Endor, they still had that bitter taste of defeat in their mouths. Now, it was time to wash it out with the taste of victory, even if it was only a small fist fight.

As if seeing it with his own eyes, Roy Collishaw grinned.

"South of the Galaxy—"

 _[STILL NOT IN H*LL!]_

 _[STILL NOT IN H*LL!]_

 _[STILL NOT IN H*LL!]_


End file.
